


Made of More

by EtherealElfling



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Hurt, Fenton has a silly crush and doesn’t realize that said crush is in the, Hurt/Comfort, I Would Die Instead of You phase already, M/M, Mild Gore, Trauma, Violence, blood warning, help them, help these poor lads, in which gyro steals a very expensive hospital machine because he is terrified, sad dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealElfling/pseuds/EtherealElfling
Summary: Gyro receives an emergency distress call from a certain intern in the middle of the night. After that, nothing is the same.
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 22
Kudos: 128





	1. Broken Parts

**Author's Note:**

> First GyroxFenton fic! I haven’t written the second chapter yet, but this will definitely be a short fic 2-3-4 (max) chapters! Please lmk in the comments what you like (or don’t like--but in a KIND critique form) and if y’all think I should write a second chapter or nah. :D  
> ~EthEl

The breathing on the phone is gurgling, but the more concerning part is that the caller ID reads: Fenton.  
"Cabrera. Cabrera! Are you okay?"  
"D-Doctor Gearloose? Need-need help getting out of th'suit. 'M sorry I th-think I broke it..." Fenton's voice is nearly unrecognizable and Gyro is instantly one tail feather away from complete panic.  
"Where are you? Keep talking." Gyro is already in the car, medkit prototype lying in the backseat.  
There is a long moment of silence, cut by terrifying gurgling breath and then: "Duck-ling drive? S-s-orry 'bout the suit."  
"Shut the hell up about the suit for one damn minute and tell me what happened!"  
A wet cough.  
"Cabrera."  
A weak gurgle.  
"FENTON!"  
"Sorry D-Doc-Doctor Ge-"  
"Gyro." At least the roads are empty at this time of night-well...morning.  
"Gy-ro. Got th-thrown into a statue...well...through, r-really."  
Gyro's knuckles turn white and he feels the leather of the wheel creak under the strain.  
"The weight of th-suit snap'd off the spear, but I b-beat him. He's in cuffs outside the station, b-but I flew away b-but the spear-" He breaks off into another fit of coughing.  
"It's okay. Don't talk. I'm just around the corner. Hold on."  
"'Kay."  
The breathing is setting Gyro's tail feathers on end, but he grits his teeth and pushes the gas a little harder.   
"You're gonna be fine, Fenton."  
"Y-Yessir."  
Gyro turns the corner of the street and sees a grove of trees casting utter darkness beneath them in the light of a quarter moon, but he manages to make out the unmoving form of the suit he'd created.  
He slams on the breaks and barely remembers to put the car in park before grabbing the medkit and leaping out.  
He sprints over to the immobile form of his intern and drops to his knees in the grass beside him.  
"Fenton. Fenton. It's me." His breathing sounds worse in person. The air smells metallic. It tastes sharp.  
"S-sir. You came."  
"Of course, dummy." The old nickname slips out in his building panic. "I'm going to sedate you so I can get you back to the lab. I can't pull out spear. I don't have anything with me to replenish blood. Don't worry. I have a preserving stretcher that will keep you in the same position as now so you don't stress your wound anymore." Gyro babbles, unconsciously trying to find release for the mounting fear. He finds the thinner rubber covering Fenton's forearm and plunges the needle in before waiting for a response. 

He tries not to think about the sticky slick substance coating the rubber. 

"Okay, Fenton. I have to get some of this stuff off you first if you're gonna fit in my car."

Fenton doesn't respond. Gyro hopes it's the sedative. 

"Suit. Emergency Medical Protocol: Individual Disassemble." Gyro flicks on his phone light and almost gags at the blood everywhere. It's all over his own hands too. 

Her shakes his head and tries to focus. 

Legs?  
Clear.  
Double tap. The waist part of the armor unclicks from the main breastplate-Gyro isn't looking can't look so much bloo-and falls to the grass.  
Hands?  
Clear.  
Double tap.  
Shoulders?  
Clear.  
Double tap.  
Forearms?  
The rubber slides off automatically without the shoulder pads and gloves.  
Head?  
Bloodbloodbloodblood but it's not from a head injury so-  
Double tap.  
Oh so much blood on his beak and his visor was cracked but that eye is swollen and-  
"Protocol Pause." Gyro grabs his portable stretcher and places the pad as gently as possible on Fenton's chest. 

It expands outward slowly and carefully but Gyro is listening to his breathing and is it getting quieter? And it feels like ages before it's covering Fenton's whole body and glowing green to signal it's readiness to move. 

Gyro presses one finger on the pad and it hovers after him as he races back to the car, leaving his precious suit pieces in the dirt without a second thought. 

"C'mon kid. C'mon. Just hang in there." Gyro muttered under his breath as he guides the floating Fenton into the backseat. 

He types a set of instructions into the pad to adjust the equipment to be aware of the vehicle and pulls the car out of park and guns it back to the lab. 

~~~

By the time Gyro gets him onto the emergency medical table, Fenton is not breathing. Gyro removed the stretcher and immediately begins CPR. 

His hands are pressing to the right of the protruding metal spear and he can't think all he can do is push 28 29 30-breathe!

No response. 

1 2 3 4-it's your fault you made the suit. If you'd put your foot down, he wouldn't be Gizmoduck-15 16 17 18-he's gonna die. He's never gonna be able to see his family again because of you. Useless evil malicious horrible inventor everything you create is wrongwrongwrongwrong!-29 30

Tilt the bill up, breathe in 2 3- 

No response. 

Again. 15 16 17 18- 

Fenton gasps and coughs up blood before succumbing back into sleep. 

Gyro sprints out of the lab before anything can get worse. 

He comes back fifteen minutes later with a massive machine he can only lift through sheet panic. 

The janitor checking room 236 in the hospital found all that was left of their second backup life support machine was exposed wires protruding from the wall. 

"I'm gonna save you. I'm gonna save you. I'm gonna save you. I'm gonna save you. I'm gonna-"

~~~

When Manny and Lil Bulb show up for work, they don't find Dr. Gearloose anywhere. Or Fenton. But that isn't unusual, given he's always late. 

The two other interns look at each other, shrug, and head to the break room to start a pot of coffee that neither of them should physically be able to ingest. 

There is a half-full pot already sitting out. Stone cold. A scribbled notepad next to it reads:

Working on top-secret project. Don't talk to me.  
Organize blueprints.  
Cabrera is on leave for a family emergency until further notice.  
-GG

The interns look at the note, then each other. They shrug and put on a new pot of coffee. 

~~~

A week later is the first time they see Gyro. He's wearing his lab-emergency backup shirt, but for seemingly the fifth day in a row. He's twice as skinny and five times as exhausted. 

He ghosts through the break room, grabs the box of crackers and the entire bag of bagels and disappears once more down the hall. 

It's another week after when they see him again. He's just as exhausted looking, but wearing his normal clothes-except the sleeves look like the cuffs have accidentally dipped in bleach. Actually there are pure white splotches all over his vest and button-up. He takes the pop tarts this time. They're only halfway through all sorting the blueprints. 

Two days later, the interns arrive to find Dr. Gearloose passed out on his desk. His sleeves look like they've been cut with a pair of scissors just above the cuff.  
The interns look away and continue with the blueprints. 

It's just then that Fenton comes strolling in through the front door, cheerful as ever. "Good morning Doctor Gearloose! Manny. Lil Bulb." 

Gyro jerks awake with a gasp as the two interns nod respectfully back. 

"Sorry I'm late, sir. Mama almost wouldn't let me leave the house! I lose my phone for two weeks and she goes nuts! I think she's just not used to me living in my own place now."

"Quit blather-blabbering and get to work!" Gyro snaps, storming past the cheerful young man. 

"Oh-oh. Yes sir, Doctor Gearloose!" 

And life goes on as usual. 

Fenton doesn't think much about those two weeks and he's not aware enough to be curious as to why. 

~~~

It's four months later that he becomes aware something is wrong. 

He's walking with Manny out of the break room. "-Yeah, I just don't have much of an appetite anymore, but I feel fine-"

"MOVE CABRERA!" Gyro bellows from across the lab. 

Fenton does not move in time. Walking directly in front of the target Gyro is aiming at. 

Something small slams into his chest with a loud ping!

Fenton is forced back several feet, but can't feel anything more than the feeling of someone pressing a fingertip to his chest. 

"What was that?" Fenton walks towards Dr. Gearloose, not yet noticing the man's horrified stare at Fenton's chest. 

"Fenton. Sit down."

"Yes sir- wait. You never call me Fenton." Fenton finds himself being ushered to a nearby chair. 

"Manny get me my magnet and a hammer. Now." 

Manny rushes off immediately. 

"Now, Fenton. Look at me. You're fine, you just got hit by a new experiment of mine. It-uhh-it involves a little bit of oil and metal and it glanced off one of your shirt buttons-EYES ON ME-good and I just need the magnet to extract it properly so it doesn't get damaged. Got it?"

"Alright, sir. Why can't I look at it?"

"Cause it's not finished," Gyro snaps. "Look at the ceiling."

Fenton feels that light pressing again on his chest and if he'd disobeyed, he'd have seen Gyro pressing both his palms tightly to the center of Fenton's chest. 

"Good. You're back. Give the magnet here."

A series of fast stomps that Fenton misses, having spaced out in self defense. Fenton is more than a little embarrassed to have his boss so close. 

"No. He's fine. This is from my test. You can go now." 

Manny huffs and trots away to the main room. 

"Don't look down, Cabrera. This might feel weird."

Gyro lifts the magnet up to Fenton's chest and switches it on. There a moment before a small snap of what sounds like metal and then a low frequency buzzing throughout Fenton's whole body. 

The hammer is left unused.

"Woah. That felt weird. What are you inventing Doctor Gearloose? A tracking beacon gun?"

"Ooh. Tracking beacon gun. I need to create beacon small enough-no! It's none of your business Cabrera!" Gyro shakes his the blooming invention from his thoughts and subtly runs a hand over Fenton's chest to check for anymore cracks. 

Gyro backs up for a minute and Fenton takes it as his cue to look down. 

"Aww man. This is my last shirt! I lost my backup."

Gyro is staring at his chest, right at the oil spot. What if his feathers are damaged and when he changes they fall out and-"I don't care, Cabrera. I'm not paying for it. You didn't move out of the way fast enough."

Fenton just sighs and nothing more is said on the matter. 

The next morning Fenton comes in fifteen minutes late without coffee or food. 

"Cabrera! What did we say about punctuality?"

"It's only optional when I invent my first time machine. Sorry Doctor Gearloose." Fenton scrubs his eyes as a deep yawn cracks open his beak. "Say, you didn't happen to have created a nightmare machine, did you? Cause after yesterday I had the worst nightmares."

"Hmm." Gyro continues tinkering, not paying him any attention. 

"Yeah. I kept dreaming that I was impaled on a large spear-"

Gyro drops his tools with a clatter and whips around, accidentally dashing his nearly empty coffee cup to the floor. "A-a spear?"

"Are you alright, Doctor Gearloose?!" Fenton rushes to grab a broom to sweep up the ceramic chunks. 

"Fine. I'm fine." Gyro recovers himself. "Thank you."

Fenton stops sweeping. 

"I mean-! Whatever, Cabrera. Get me another mug." Gyro turns back to tinker, not realizing the tool he should be using is still on the floor. He fiddles mindlessly, twisting a pencil round and around to no end. 

"Doctor Gearloose, sir?" Fenton is holding out the wrench. "Are you really alright?"

"...what happened in the dream?"

Fenton starts. "Oh! Uh yeah. I was in my suit-hey, I haven't gotten any calls for Gizmoduck in a really long time! Maybe we should check-"

"No. Continue."

"Okay... I was flying somewhere and I was really tired and I ended up crashing in the middle of a park and when I tried to get up, I couldn't cause I was bleeding and there was a spear through my chest-"

Fenton shudders and reaches to touch his chest. Gyro slaps his hand away without thinking. 

They both freeze. 

Fenton stares at him before slowly reaching up to touch his chest again. 

Just before his fingers touch, Gyro grabs his hand. 

"Fenton. Don't."

"What is it? Why are you being weird? Why won't you let me-" 

Fenton reaches towards himself with the other hand and Gyro grabs it, dropping the invention he is tinkering with. It shatters on the floor.

"Fenton. Please don't."

Fenton tries to pull his hands away, starting to look frantic. "You're freaking me out, Doctor Gearloose. What are you doing? You never call me Fenton! What is it? What did you shoot me with yesterday?"

Gyro tightens his grip, closing his eyes briefly. "Sit down, Cabrera. Please."

Fenton drops his tail down on the file cabinet next to Gyro's desk. He still can't pull his hands away from Gyro. 

"A-about five months ago, at three fifteen in the morning, you called me. You had been fighting a villain and he'd-he had-he threw you into a statue-"

Fenton flinches. Gyro loosens his grip. 

"-you were lying in the grass bleeding out when I finally reached you. The suit-the suit was too heavy, it had pulled you down when you were impaled and the damage was-" Gyro squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the bloody memories. "-the damage would have been deadly."

Fenton jerks his hands free, wrapping them around his waist. "'Would have been?'"

"I-I stole a life support machine...amongst other emergency supplies...and...and..." 

Gyro presses a hand to Fenton's chest and at first nothing feels different until he knocks twice. 

Two hollow clanks echo around the empty lab. 

"The experiment yesterday bent the metal and your...oil started leaking out and I had to use the magnet to unbend your breastplate and..."

Gyro drops his head to Fenton's chest and the clank echoes between them. 

"I couldn't lose you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I disabled the Gizmoduck alarm and I don't even have the parts. I shredded them-it took forever but I was so angry and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I don't want you to hate me but you DIED and I had to-had to-"

Gyro's shoulders begin to shake and he pulls away. 

"I-I-I'm not alive?" Fenton finally touches his own chest, feeling the well-crafted false feathers covering the metal. "I'm dead."

"No! Your heart is still functional and working, but I couldn't reconnect it to parts of your chest and I had to replace your lungs-they were crushed-and you're alive! You are! You're just...not entirely yourself anymore."

"I'm a robot."

"Only your chest!" Gyro pleads. 

Fenton stands up slowly, backing away. "I have to go. I-I just...have to go."

He sprints out of the lab without looking back and Gyro breaks.


	2. Piece it Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think they need to talk some things out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha okay so I guess there gonna be another part?? Whose idea was that? Anyway I was gonna sleep two hours ago, but the mad lads needed to have a Conversation™ and so I had to help them talk out their issues in one sitting of COURSE so here we are at 4:15, regretting everything and nothing simultaneously.

It's two weeks before a Cabrera shows up in the lab again.  
It is not Fenton.  
  
Gyro grips the hands at his collar desperately.  
  
"You did this to mi hijo. You." Officer Cabrera holds him off the ground in his personal office, out of the way of prying intern eyes. "He hasn't slept or eaten in days and the fact that he even moved back in-" she breaks off, muttering violently in Spanish.  
  
Gyro swallows nervously, thinking he might've caught the word death in there with the little Spanish he remembers. "Please, Officer-"  
  
"'Officer?' Do you see a badge on me right now? Oh no. Whatever I do now has nothing to do with the law." She tightens her grip and Gyro considers calling out to Manny before dismissing it.  
  
The thought that she’s in some form of shock, or one of the stages of grief passes fleetingly through Gyro’s mind  
  
"Please, Ms. Cabrera. I couldn't save him without the procedure. He would've died. I had to have him on various life-supporting systems including my own prototype inventions in order to keep him alive long enough to create functional lungs and restructure his breastplate and I'm sorry, but if I'd taken him to a hospital he would've died and it would've been all my fault because I built that damn suit and let him go on crime fighting despite everything in me warning against it and the one time my worst fear comes true, I was actually able to save him-"  
  
Gyro is sobbing, unable to pull his mind from the images of Fenton half dead on his operating table, blood staining Gyro's own sleeves until he hacked them short enough that he wouldn't have to keep bleaching the reminder out and the memory of having to cut away shattered bone, barely able to keep from shaking because any second he could slip away and Gyro couldn't save him if he-  
  
"Hey! Hey! Doctor Gearloose!" A slap across the face brings him to the present.  
  
When did he get to his chair?  
  
"I apologize, Doctor. I thought that you had used the opportunity..." Ms. Cabrera trails off, unable to meet his eyes.  
  
Gyro is on his feet in a second. "I would NEVER! I didn't even want Fenton to be the one testing Project Blatherskite! Much less would I ever experiment on him!”  
  
"I didn't know."  
  
The door slams open.  
  
"M'ma!! What do you think you're doing?" Fenton is in the doorway, chest heaving as he breathes hard.  
  
Gyro once more tries not to think about the operation.  
  
"Calm down, Polito. We talked, that's all." Ms. Cabrera shoots Gyro a look and he hurries to flatten his aggressively rumpled collar, not wanting to get on her bad side again.   
  
"Yes. Talked." Gyro sinks back into his chair.  
  
"Oh. Well...” Fenton shuffles his feet. “I guess we should be going then, right, M’ma?”  
  
She nods and they make to exit.  
  
“Wait!” And Gyro is back on his feet.  
  
The pair turn around.  
  
“Are you...did you...resign?” Gyro almost can’t get the word out.  
  
“No.” Gyro crumples back into his chair in relief. “I asked for medical leave from Mr. McDuck. I will be back Monday.”  
  
And then they’re gone and Gyro is exhausted. 

When he wakes up, the clock reads 11:00 p.m.  
  
Gyro collects his limbs, shaking out the pins and needles of sleeping at a desk. And there’s nothing left to do but work.  
And work.  
And work.  
And work.  
And somehow it’s Monday. And Gyro thinks it’s hour 80 of being awake with the exception of passing out for an hour or two sometime around day two or three. Or maybe both.  
  
He doesn’t even notice how Lil Bulb and Manny seem to be taking shifts nearby to keep an eye on him if he passes out again.  
  
It’s quarter past when the door opens to a frantic Fenton.  
  
“Sorry I’m late! Traffic and-oh man. What’s wrong with you?”  
  
“Nothing,” Gyro snaps, trying to focus on the face in front of him without much success. “Get out of my way, dummy.” He raises an arm to push Fenton’s shoulder, but ends up stumbling into him instead.  
  
“Okay. Nope. Sorry, Doctor Gearloose, but you need rest. Let’s go. I’m taking you home.”  
  
“Down the hall, to the right.” Gyro mumbles.  
  
“Wait. Seriously? You sleep here?” Fenton tucks his shoulder under Gyro’s arm to support him as they walk. “C’mon, Dr. Gearloose. Let’s get you to bed.”  
  
“Thought I told you to call me Gyro.” His words slur as he leans more on Fenton.  
  
Manny and Lil Bulb nod their thanks to Fenton as the two stumble past.  
  
“When was that, sir?”  
  
“When I nearly killed you, I think.” Gyro can’t think. “Maybe when your heart stopped the third time. I think I said ‘if you make it through this, you never have to refer to me in a superior title ever again.’ I was trying to cover all bases of “sir, Doctor, etcetera.” They make it to the door and Gyro fumbles for the hand pad, missing twice before Fenton gently grips his wrist, aiming it at the scanner.  
  
“I don’t mind calling you by your title. It makes me feel-uh...makes me feel more professional.”  
  
Luckily, Gyro is too out of it to notice the hitch in Fenton’s comment.  
  
They squish through the small door and Gyro flicks on the lights.  
  
“Oh no way. Nope. You’re not staying here. Not right now. You need a real bed and real food and you’re coming to my place. Let’s go. Car. Now.”  
  
“M’kay, Fenton. ‘M so relieved you don’t hate me right now.” Gyro’s head lolls to Fenton’s shoulder which is the only warning Fenton gets before Gyro collapses completely in his arms.  
  
“Okay. Okay. Okay. Umm....hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to carry you to the car. Which you know, you said it was fine to go to my house but I hope you don’t mind that I have to carry you, but I suppose fair is fair in this instance.”   
Fenton scoops the limp Doctor into his arms and awkwardly waddles out the door, trying to keep from bashing (the already very ill) Gyro’s head on walls or corners. 

“I know you’re unconscious-or at least I hope you are at this point ‘cause you have not gotten sleep in quite a few days as Manny told me-but I hope you don’t think I hate you. I could never. Really.”  
Fenton blabbers at the snoozing Gyro as he navigates morning rush hour.  
  
“I know I freaked out a bit when I found out, but honestly, can you blame me? I had just found out I’d died! And that I’m half machine now!  
But then M’ma said that you said you invented several new forms of life support for me and she said that you seemed...you seemed more protective than someone who is just a coworker should...I don’t know if I should believe her. She’s always shoving me at her coworkers’ sons and daughters.”  
  
Fenton chuckles nervously.  
  
“One time it was a blind date. Those are the worst. She doesn’t understand that I can’t just jump into a relationship like that. I need to know them before anything like a date or more.  
“I...I do think that we’ve passed that point though. I really-”  
  
Gyro sighs and tucks his chin into his chest.  
Fenton shakes his head, pulling into his reserved parking spot. “I should probably not bring that up for a while. There are other things we have to work through first, right?”  
  
~~~  
  
The first time Gyro wakes up, he is only awake enough to drink from the straw placed at his lips. As the cold water settled through him, he hears: “shh, just rest now.”  
~~~  
The second time he wakes up, he smells the most magnificent aroma. He hears humming from another room, but it‘s too dark to discern where the door is, so Gyro sinks back into sleep.  
~~~  
The third time he awakens to the light spilling in from the door to his left. The outline of Fenton juggling several plates piled high with food seems a bit of a dream and Gyro would’ve rolled over and tried to will it away if he didn’t smell the rich scent of well-seasoned meat.  
  
“Wakey, wakey, tapas y leche!” Fenton grins, nudging the light on with his bill. “Okay. That was pretty bad, but I couldn’t think of any other Spanish food word that sounded close enough rhyme with ‘wakey’ so sue me.  
“Actually, do you want milk though? There is some in the kitchen and it might help with some of the spice.”  
Gyro blinks slowly at him, processing only half of what is happening. “Cabrera. Where am I?”  
  
“Oh right. You were pretty out of it. This is my apartment. We both agreed that place you call a ‘bedroom’ was not sufficient for recovery.”  
  
Gyro tries his best to quell rising embarrassment and subsequent anger. “I don’t recall agreeing to that and I’ll have you know I’ve recovered from much worse alone in that room!”  
  
“Okay but you don’t have to.” Fenton sets the plates on the bedside table, nudging the water toward Gyro as he does so.  
  
Gyro picks it up, sipping at it, unable to find a logical response to Fenton’s comment.  
  
“Okay so once you finish that glass of water, you get to try one of each thing on the plates closest to you. Do not eat the ones on my plate. You’ll die. I mean it. I saw you choking on the pepper flake Manny accidentally got on your pizza slice at the picnic.”  
  
Gyro wrinkles his nose at the memory. “Spicy food is evil.”  
  
“Okay, calm down.” Fenton shoots him a look. “Listen, I’m glad you’re not half dead anymore, but if you insult spicy food again, you’ll wish you were. No one does spice better than my M’ma.  
“Actually, I should thank you! When she heard you were here recovering, she finally caved in to teaching me the family recipes!”  
  
“You shouldn’t thank me for anything.” Gyro mutters into his straw.  
  
“Well, too bad. Thank you. Thank you for being an idiot—” Gyro’s head snaps up as he splutters on his last sip of water. “—and running yourself into the ground so I could get the family recipes. Thank you for saving my life despite the extreme stress and trauma it placed on you. Thank you for letting me use the Gizmoduck suit despite you’re misgiving. I wouldn’t trade that experience for the world-”  
  
“How about your LIFE?” The bubbling resentment and guilt festering for months and months finally bursts. “I let you use a PROTOTYPE to crime fight. I gave you a faulty suit and it almost killed you once and then we rewired the core processor to you and then I thought that maybe ONE of my inventions wouldn’t be destructive for ONCE and then it almost killed you TWICE!”   
Gyro sits up and immediately his vision goes black. He flings a steadying hand out toward the bedside table, but Fenton catches it instead.  
  
“Shh. Stop, Dr. Gearloose, just stop. Your inventions aren’t evil. They’re just not mindless machines like most people create. It’s actually rather incredible—but that’s not the point! Your suit saved me. Twice. I know that technically it was the creation of the suit that put me in those dangerous situations, but progress happens whether we want it to or not. We just got lucky that you invented the suit and not someone...evil.  
“That suit finally gave me a purpose. I was finally useful! I could finally help people like I’ve always wanted!”   
As Gyro breathes deeply, trying to clear the dizziness, he feels Fenton clutch his hand more tightly, his voice getting thicker. “I felt so useless in the lab. Running errands, making coffee, organizing files, holding down pieces while you soldered. Busywork. But the suit, Gizmoduck, that saved me. It made me realize I had a chance to help people by combing the best parts of me. My love for science and my drive to make the world a better place. You gave that to me.”  
  
Gyro sits there in shock. Fenton gently takes the empty glass from his frozen fingers.  
  
“Yeah. Not only were you not at fault for my own clumsiness, but you also helped fulfill a lifelong dream of mine, Dr. Gearloose. So thank you.”  
  
“But the spear—”  
  
Fenton presses a skewer stuffed with meat into his still-frozen fingers. They close reflexively.  
  
“Try this when you have a second.  
And yeah. Now that I know what happened, I can remember most of what happened before you arrived. I was thrown through at least two trees and landed headfirst on a rock during that fight alone before I was thrown through the spear. Do you think I would’ve survived any of that without the suit?”  
  
“But you wouldn’t have been there—”  
  
“Oh just shut it and eat.” Fenton finally drops Gyro’s hand-not that Gyro had been paying much attention to how big his fingers felt compared to Gyro’s long, thin ones. “I know you don’t know how to process guilt and have been guilt tripping yourself over this for months, but honestly. I’m fine. You saved me and I’m thankful and I don’t hold anything against you except for how long it took for you to tell me I’m a robo-duck now.  
“By the way,” Fenton pops a small ball of battered something dipped in sauce into his mouth, “next time I hear your only sustenance for three-plus days is month-old bagels and coffee, I’m kidnapping you again.”  
  
“Okay.” It pops out before Gyro has time to think. He desperately tries to blame it on the allure of the magnificent feast in front of him, and not the sight of Fenton in rubber ducky pajamas with splatters of sauce on one of the sleeves sitting so comfortably at his bedside  
  
Fenton turns red and shovels a couple more of the battered food into his mouth, not bothering to dip it.  
  
Gyro stares intently at the plate in front of him, regretting most of his life choices.  
  
After an uncomfortably long pause Fenton clears his throat. “If you want...you could...well I wouldn’t mind if...”  
  
“Spit it out, Cabrera.” Gyro grates, scarfing down a couple more pieces of whatever meat is on the shish-kebab.  
  
“Dinner on Thursday’s? I’ll cook for us?” Fenton blurts.  
  
“You mean you want to spend more time with me then you have to?” Gyro is absolutely incredulous.  
  
“Dr. Gearloose, you’re currently eating my cooking in my bed in my apartment. Per my orders.”  
  
“Gyro,” he corrects absentmindedly. “WAIT THIS IS YOUR BED?” Gyro scrabbles at the sheets, desperately trying to escape before his blush becomes visible.  
  
Fenton drops one of his little morsels and presses Gyro’s shoulders back into the pillows.  
  
“Woah. Woah! You’re fine! Please calm down. I’m pretty sure you’ll pass out again if you try to stand! You’ve been asleep for about fourteen hours and you are nowhere near caught up on sleep.”  
  
Gyro stops struggling as soon as Fenton pins him down.  
  
Oh no. That took a grand total of no effort for him to just pin me like that. Oh no.  
  
Gyro tucks his knees to his chest and calmly reaches for another “tapas” or whatever they are.  
  
Calm down. He told you to calm down. Except now I feel the opposite of calm for a completely different reason.  
  
“Okay, Gyro, Thursday’s or no?”  
  
Gyro jolts at his name. “Yes.”  
  
Fenton breaks into that beaming smile of his. “Good.”


End file.
